Additional Note: this story continues what Lara Bee and I started in Siren’s Song and have hinted at in other stories.

"Flannel?"
He stared at the apparition in front of him -- because that was exactly what he was: a figment. Surreal. A hallucination in a red and black plaid flannel shirt, turtleneck, long-sleeve shirt, loose jeans, hiking boots. A smile was on those familiar lips, the eyes lit up with amusement and excitement.
Commander Charles ‘Trip’ Tucker blinked. The appearance didn't change.
"Flannel, Malcolm?" he repeated.
"It's the best for hiking. Keeps you warm and it is casual enough."
"Yeah, but flannel....?"
"Trip..."
Tucker shrugged and grinned. His eyes ran over the slender form of his lover and while the look was alien to him, he liked what it did to the normally so properly dressed officer. He had a casual air about him, relaxed, unwound -- happy. With four days of shore leave, Trip felt the same. While both men had argued that after their experience on Risa, and the fact that not everyone had had the pleasure of shore leave the last time, they would voluntarily stay aboard -- Archer would have none of it.
There had been a brief, heated argument, followed by an unmistakable order. They would go down to the planet, hike, camp, have fun.
Oh well.
But in flannel?
He chuckled.
"Were you planning on wearing some of your Hawaiian prints?" Malcolm teased as he closed his backpack.
"Well, to tell the truth... yeah..." Trip grinned.
"Then you'll sleep outside," Reed told him firmly.
"Aw, Mal... I know you love my shirts."
"I think they are hideous."
"You wound me."
"As if. You only wear these things to get me to tear them off."
An innocent look passed the blond’s face. “Hey, it’s the only way to get noticed!”
“Noticed? In the middle of the wilderness? By what? Mosquitoes? Wolves? Bears?”
"I love you, too."
They had chosen a mountain region far away from the main city where most of the other crew would spend their time. It had trails with spectacular views, waterfalls, forest, snow-capped mountains with lakes, hidden valleys.. just about everything. Trip had had a look at a brochure and fallen in love with the idea of getting away into the wilderness -- nightclubs be damned. To his surprise, Malcolm hadn't been too hard to convince. The Englishman had read through the brochure, nodded, and then went about planning what they would need, like sleeping bags, a tent, hiking gear, camping utensils and all. He had been efficient as always and Trip had simply stood back and watched, smiling at the enthusiasm.
"Love me enough to help carry the stuff to the shuttle?" he asked seductively.
"Only for you."
"Well, I hope there's no one else."
Trip kissed him playfully, then grabbed the nearest backpack. It was heavy. "What did you pack? Brick stones?" he wanted to know.  “It weighs a ton!”
“Oh, you know, just the usual half ton of bricks and mortar, a few warp coils, a phase cannon, and not to forget a shield generator.”
“Doofus,” Trip muttered.
“You forgot the ‘loveable’.”
Tucker gave him a calculating look, a once over, and shook his head. “Nah. Just a simple ‘doofus’.”
Malcolm chuckled and swung his backpack easily up and onto his back.
"So, any meat loaf in there as well?"
Reed rolled his eyes. "Incorrigible."
"That's me."
Bantering, they made their way to the bay.
Rostov was their pilot again and the dark-haired man grinned as he discovered his last two passengers for this shore leave. “Commander, Lieutenant,” he greeted them.
Malcolm shot him a slightly miffed look as he was aware of the lingering glance. Trip snickered.
“Flannel,” he murmured, just loud enough for his lover to hear it.
“Shut up,” was the equally low reply.
Four more people were crammed into the confines, but it wasn't too bad for the short flight. Well, crammed next to Malcolm was always a nice thing from Trip’s point of view.
From the landing point, Malcolm and Trip caught a public transport to the visitor information center at the gate to the Preserved Park. The wardens gave them maps, descriptions of the trails, the current weather forecast, as well as registered their names. Each man was given a small pager, just in case.
Three hours after leaving Enterprise, the two men set out into the wilderness.

* * *

“This is good,” Trip mumbled around a mouthful of dinner. “What is it?”
“Fish.”
“I know that it is fish, you dope!” Tucker shot him an evil look. “I caught it myself.”
“Yes, the big hunter.” Malcolm grinned.
Trip flicked a crumb of bread at him, which bounced off one shoulder. “I meant this sauce and… whatever that is… with the bread. If it is bread…”
“It is. I carried some ingredients with me. And the sauce was made from what I found around here.”
They were sitting around a merrily burning camp fire, miles into the mountain hiking area, hadn’t met another soul all day, it was now just a few hours till night. Dusk was already settling, the light getting less, but it wasn’t really dark yet.
“Around here?” Tucker echoed. “As in.. you plucked it off a tree?”
“Bush,” Reed corrected him, dipping his bread into the reddish brown sauce. “Some tree bark, some leaves, some roots. Found some nuts for the bread as well.”
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s perfectly edible.”
“Sayeth the boy scout?”
“Eagle scout. There is a difference.”
“Right.”
The ate in silence for a few seconds, then Trip poked at a crunchy addition to the sauce. “No offence, but that looks like a bug.” He speared it with his fork and started to chew.
“None taken. It is one,” came the calm reply.
The engineer made a choking noise. “What?!”
Malcolm grinned impishly.
“You put bugs into my dinner?!”
The grin widened and Tucker grimaced.
“Eee-yew, Malcolm!”
“Tastes like chicken.”
“I hate you,” Trip declared.
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do. You put a bug into my dinner!”
“The bug is your dinner.”
“You’re so disgusting.”
Malcolm chuckled. “It’s not what you said last night.”
Trip poked his fork at him. “Last night I didn’t know you were going to heap bugs on my plate and expect me to eat them!”
“Don’t forget the sauce.”
Tucker rolled his eyes.
Malcolm returned to eating his fish and bread, smiling to himself at his lover’s overly outraged behavior. He knew Trip was only acting it..
Reed was enjoying himself. Immensely. He was outside, fresh air, wonderful scenery, stretching his legs, seeing new things. And best of all: he was here with Trip. A smile flitted over his lips as he took in the glistening surface of the slow moving river that was so far away, smelled the burning embers of their fire, and then let his gaze linger on the blond man sharing the camp with him.
Trip had caught their dinner while Malcolm had erected the tent and built the fire, and the Armory Officer had been surprised about his lover catching fish, but then again, why not? Tucker had grown up on a farm. There had to be fishing ponds and lakes and rivers, too.
The small smile became larger as he remembered Trip walking back to the camp, hair tousled, pants slightly damp, eyes gleaming with delight – and holding his catch. The man had been proud of his achievement and he could be.
Trip Tucker wasn’t a born outdoors camping man, though. Especially when it came to alien planets and the assorted fauna and flora. Or even Earth. Malcolm knew about survival training in Australia, and Trip’s subsequent dislike of deserts. Then there had been the disastrous episode with him and Archer trapped on a desert-planet. No fun either. Or exploring a new planet and getting infected by pollen. Or getting stuck in an underground cave, surrounded by ice and frigid water, almost freezing to death.
No, Trip’s track-record with the great outdoors wasn’t very good. It was abysmal, even. But Malcolm had had been surprised when his lover had actually jumped at the idea of going camping, to enjoy their four days with him in a controlled environment. Well, as controlled as Preserved Parks were.
“Whatcha thinkin’ off?” Trip drawled, placing his empty plate down, letting the topic of bugs in his food drop.
“You… catching fish. Us… here… It’s wonderful,” Malcolm answered softly.
Trip’s face glowed with his smile. “Yeah, it is. Just the two of us, no one else.”
Reed wiped the rest of the sauce off the plate with some bread. “No one else,” he echoed seductively.
Trip caught the inflection and his eyes darkened. “Dishes?” he murmured.
“River,” Malcolm answered and they both grabbed the dirty dishes, quickly rinsing them in the clear but cold river water.
They made it back to the camp in record time, stowed away the leftover food, the dishes and put more wood on the fire. Malcolm had just closed his backpack when a pair of arms wrapped themselves around his middle, pulling him flush against a taller body. A pair of lips nuzzled a spot behind his ear and he felt goose bumps rise.
“D’you know how gorgeous y’look in that light?” Trip said huskily.
Tucker’s mouth went lower and he pulled away the turtleneck to reveal a smooth column of skin. Malcolm moaned softly in appreciation.
“You look surreal, love,” the blond went on. “I wanna touch you just to confirm you’re there.”
“Trip…”
“Hm?”
Trip’s hands massaged the muscular stomach through the layers of clothing.
Malcolm turned in the loose embrace, capturing the wonderful lips. The kiss was slow, soft, without haste or need or hunger. It was an expression of love, of the bond that had slowly formed between the two men. Three years in a steady and ever-growing relationship was a long time for both of them and Malcolm knew he wasn’t alone in his amazement that it was still working. If at all, it had only become more. So much more.
“Touch me,” the dark-haired man invited.
Trip worked his hands under the sleeveless down vest and slid it off. Next came the dark fleece jacket, revealing the plaid shirt.
“You’re worse than an onion,” he rumbled as he kissed a path to the left ear, nibbling at the lobe. “Layers upon layers upon layers…”
“Think of it as an early birthday present,” was the answering chuckle.
Trip grinned and tugged the sweater off the slender body, rolling his eyes as he looked at the black turtleneck. Malcolm grinned mischievously.
“How many more layers have you on you?”
“Wouldn’t that take the fun out of the unpacking?”
Tucker growled and tackled the other man, hands slipping under the turtleneck. He gave a whoop of delight as he encountered warm skin. Malcolm laughed, squirming, as talented fingers tickled him.
“What about you?” he wheezed when Trip let up. “You’re still fully dressed…”
The blond swooped down for another kiss, then grinned. “I thought it was my present tonight,” he whispered huskily.
Malcolm looked up at him, smiling, fingers brushing over one shadowed cheek. The five o’clock stubble had taken hold. Trip leaned into the caress.
“It is,” the lieutenant agreed. “All yours.”
The next kiss relayed rising hunger, but also a reaffirmation of their emotional bond. Malcolm arched slightly as Trip’s mouth proceeded to torture him, finding his nipples and licking and sucking at them. He carded his fingers into the blond strands, feeling their silky texture.
He knew he was making soft sounds of encouragement, especially when Trip’s questing fingers reached a more southern part and freed him of his pants. He was close to incoherent when those fingers proceeded to tease and massage, squeeze and arouse. And he was begging for release when none was given quickly.
Malcolm knew he was a bundle of hunger, desire and need by the time his lover was naked as well, blanketing his body, kissing and rubbing himself against the hot body beneath him. And he gasped in pleasure as he was finally taken to the peak, held there, tortured by the man he felt connected to in more than physical ways. It was a rush, plain and simple. Giving him what he needed the most right now, satisfying him in a soul-deep way no one else had ever done before.
Some badly needed braincells blew, melted into a gray, undefined soup, or generally keeled over in a dead faint. Two exhausted bodies lay with each other, breathing harsher, almost panting. There were soft sounds, some gentle movement, and a murmur of pleasure from one or the other. Neither one wanted to move any more. Not an inch. Not even a twitch.
“Gonna be the death of me,” Trip whispered, voice barely loud enough to actually be called a voice.
“Uh-huh,” came a drowsy reply.
Braincells had truly ceased to function.
Well, they were highly overrated. Who needed them anyway?

*

Trip lay in the wonderful warmth of the afterglow, wrapped around his lover, both of them now cooling down from their heated encounter. Malcolm’s hair was sweaty and tangled with a few leaves, which made him look even sexier than usual. His body was cushioned by a sleeping bag and Tucker managed to get the upper part over the drowsy man before they caught a chill.
I crave you, he thought fondly. Even after three years, the craving hasn’t stopped. I need you, I love you… you’re mine.
It was a mushy, sappy feeling, something more associated with first time love or the first year of a relationship. But it was what he felt.
And he was so infinitely glad that they had met before coming aboard Enterprise, that their first meeting had been outside the rigid structure that was Starfleet, the overpowering environment that was the ship. Trip knew that if he had met Malcom as Lieutenant Reed, there might never have been a ‘them’.
Because I am afraid, he mused. Afraid of being hurt, turned down and deserted by the one person who means the most to me.
He would have flirted, true. Maybe even more so than normal, but would he have made the final step? As a Commander?
Probably not.
Because I would have been too afraid he'll panic and leave. I'd much rather have his friendship than nothing at all.
But it hadn’t been like that. While their path hadn’t been without thorns and misunderstandings, the relationship that had been born out of this first, uncomplicated encounter had been the strongest he had ever formed.
Pulling the slender form against him, Trip snuggled closer. He liked afterglow snuggling and cuddling. It felt so incredibly right, so complete, and he could stay like this forever. Just him and Malcolm. His Malcolm. Tender, caring, passionate, wonderful, strong… He could go on and never grow tired.
Damn if I’m not sappy to the hilt. He’d kill me if I told him.
Whatever bound them together, he hoped it would never break. He felt complete with Malcolm. So very much complete. They trusted each other, down to the point of giving up every shield and little bit of control, surrendering.
Trip felt sleep threaten and he knew they had to at least get into the tent.
“Malcolm?”
“Hm?”
“Gotta get inside.”
“Hm.”
“Might rain.”
“Hmpf.”
Trip chuckled. His lover was currently too content to really participate in any kind of conversation. It was something he had discovered right from the start: wear him out and Malcolm’s all proper vocabulary went down the drain. The man had so many layers on him, it was like unwrapping a wonderful package, discovering more each and every time. Even today, Trip found things he hadn’t really seen before. He wondered if Malcolm thought the same about him.
And what did he see?
What was it that made each man special to the other?
He didn’t know and he didn’t want to rationalize it, define it, put it into words. What he felt was too complicated.
Removing himself slightly, Trip was met by a low, protesting mumble and slitted gray eyes looked accusingly at him.
“C’mon, love.”
“You go up ahead,” came the drowsy reply. “I’ll stay a bit longer.”
“Yeah right.” Trip kissed his nose. “You either get up ‘n walk, Mal, or Ah’ll drag yer sorry butt inside.”
“Didn’t complain about my sorry butt earlier,” came the sly reply.
“Nope, I weren’t. I like your butt, sorry or not. An’ I don’t want it to catch somethin’ out here. Now you gonna move or you want me to bring out the big guns… honey?”
Wow-ha! Flash of lightning, Trip thought with amusement. The gray eyes sparked dangerously.
“Please, darlin’?” he added another volley.
“Tucker…” Malcolm growled.
“Yes, sweetcheeks?”
“That does it!” came the snarl and the prone man launched himself at his lover. “You’re so dead!”
Trip was caught off guard by the sudden and very lithe move, and he toppled over. Laughing, he tried to fend off his very agile lover, grinning madly.
“You really have a death wish,” Reed proclaimed as he pushed the captured wrists down left and right of Trip’s head.
“Nah, just the wish t’get into the tent an’ our wonderfully warm sleepin’ bags.”
Malcolm leaned down and brushed his lips over the blond’s. “And then what?”
“Then we’ll see,” Trip breathed, flicking his tongue out.
Gray eyes gave him a calculating look and his wrists were still securely pinned down.
“Mal?”
Suddenly he was released and Malcolm straightened with the same smooth and controlled movements as he had pounced his lover. Trip took a second to admire the view. Damn, the man had a gorgeous body!
Reed grinned, quite aware of the scrutiny he was under and completely unashamed about his state of undress. Brushing off some dirt, and more than likely making it deliberately erotic, he walked off to the tent. Trip knew they weren’t up for another round, but snuggling together, enjoying the other body, was more than enough.
Quickly getting up, he followed his lover.
He smiled.
Being outdoors wasn’t really so bad after all. It was actually quite nice.

*

"You shouldn't feel this comfortable.”
The voice of complaint had Trip grin and he looked at the man currently using him as a cushion.
“I shouldn’t?”
“No.”
“Why, pray tell?”
There was a soft grunt.
"Fine. Let's trade. I get to have my Malcolm pillow then," Trip suggested.
“Can’t move.”
“Huh? You’re complainin’ about me bein’ your too comfy mattress, though I have yet to discover why that’s a bad thing, but you don’t wanna move?”
Hair slid across his chest as Malcolm nodded.
“You, Malcolm Reed, are a riddle to me,” Tucker sighed.
“Good.”
“Good?”
“If you knew everything about me, I’d be an open book. Like you are for me.”
Trip snorted. “I’m no open book! You hardly know me.”
A muffled chuckle. “I know everything, Mr. Tucker. Every dirty, little secret.”
“Aw, Mal, you talked to my Mom again, haven’t you?” Trip let his head fall back in mock despair.
“Yep.”
“That sounded way too smug, Mister.”
“Yep.”
“I hate you.”
“For all five minutes, if it’s that long at all.”
Trip glared, but he couldn’t really uphold it.
Malcolm lifted his head, dancing gray eyes meeting exasperated blue ones, and Trip had a clear path to that wonderful mouth. He glided in. God, he loved this man. They pulled away, a bit breathless and he tightened his grip around his lover.
“Best shore leave ever,” he mumbled.
“Better than Risa?”
Trip frowned thoughtfully. “Lemme think….”
“Don’t hurt yourself.”
“Smart ass.”
“Your favorite part, too, right?” Malcolm teased.
Trip smiled warmly. “All of you is my favorite part, Mal. Have I mentioned that I love you lately?”
“I can’t recall…”
“Then let me stir the memories…” A soft kiss was placed on the receptive lips.
“Getting there,” Malcolm murmured.
Another kiss.
“Yes, coming back slowly.”
And another, this one deep and exploring. Reed grinned at the blond, pulling him into his embrace.
“All there,” he whispered.

* * *

The morning began with a breath-taking sunrise and a hearty breakfast. Both men washed in the river, Trip unable to resist to splash his lover. Malcolm got into the spirit of things and retaliated, and both men ended up sufficiently wet to require a change of clothes.
They hiked for several hours, following the course of the river through the ancient forest with its tall, majestic trees, toward the mountains that were rising not very far away from them. Trip took pictures every now and then. They saw a lot of alien fauna, most of the animals fleeing at their sight.
Consulting the map, Malcolm nodded at the path. “We’re almost at the second camp site. You’ll love this. It has hot springs.”
Trip felt a rush of anticipation. “Hot springs?”
Malcolm grinned. “Yes.”
“Then what are we waiting for?”
 

The two men reached the hot springs by late afternoon. They were hidden behind a dense growth of trees and consisted of three shallow pools, surrounded by bushes and gravel. They erected the tent, placed the sleeping bags and started the fire. Since they had left the river for now and would only tomorrow return to it, dinner would be a matter of heating prepared camping food.
“Y’know, this looks real invitin’,”  Trip murmured.
His eyes were on the backside of his lover who was standing right in front of the steaming pond, slipping out of his clothes. Malcolm threw his pants aside, stepping into the hot water.
“You’re aware of what they say ‘bout hot water an’ its relaxin’ effects?”
“Join me before it sets in,” Malcolm said seductively.
Trip didn’t need a second invitation.
He slid into the water and couldn’t help but give a pleased sound when it eased some of the tension in his muscles. Malcolm laughed quietly and splashed a little water into his direction.
“C’mere you,” Trip growled and went after his lover, taking him in a tight embrace and kissing him fervently.
No matter how long they had been together, this slender but muscular man could drive him insane with desire. Trip wondered why, what did it, because they were no longer freshly in love. It was a settled relationship.
He sat down in the warm stone basin and turned Malcolm around, pulling him on top of him. His hands wandered over the slick body he knew so well by now, caressing it, carefully nipping at Malcolm’s neck and taking in every single sound of pleasure his lover made. Malcolm let his head drop onto Trip’s shoulder, eyes closed, and moaned as Trip’s hands were finding their way down south, unable to do anything more than just receive. Trip knew that most of the time Malcolm hated being restrained, that he liked to be the more active part, but here and now he wanted Malcolm to just relax and enjoy. Malcolm’s hips bucked and he growled his desire and frustration, and Trip held him down an little.
“Shhh,” he whispered softly, “don’t rush it. We have all the time in the world...”
Trip’s tongue wandered over Malcolm’s earlobe, which caused another moan.
“Ah’m startin’ t’get the hang of this,” Tucker murmured. “Kinda like bein’ out here… havin’ you… no limits… no one to mind, to be careful of,  no restraints…”
His lover’s gray eyes held a million emotions and the smile on those wonderful lips made him hotter than any hot spring.
“I told you it would be fun,” he whispered.
“An’ as always… you’re so right…”
With that Trip locked their lips again.
Oh yeah, he was getting the hang of it all right.

*

A fire was burning merrily in the middle of the camp and light danced over the tent, the backpacks, the earthy ground and the two men sitting together. Malcolm had his back against a smooth boulder, cushioning himself with his sleeping bag. Trip sat between his spread legs, his back against his lover’s chest, head resting between one shoulder and the neck. He was covered by his own bag. It wasn’t very chilly yet, but coming from the wonderful heat of the hot springs, the air seemed a lot cooler. The crackle of burning wood, the occasional rustle in the bushes, and the ever-present hum of the insects was all there was.
“Trip?” Malcolm asked, voice soft.
“Hm?”
“What made you come?”
Tucker gave a snort of laughter. “You have ta ask, love? I think it was your hand in combination with that weapon you call a mouth. You should get a license for it….”
Malcolm grimaced. “Get your braincell out of the nether regions, Mr. Tucker.”
“With you so close to the nether regions, that’s real hard t’do, Mal.”
Reed entwined their hands and squeezed them. “As if you were up to another round,” he teased.
“Sez the limp rag I had to pull outta the hot pools.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Trip tilted his head back, blue eyes dancing with humor. Malcolm kissed the upturned nose, smiling.
“Okay, let me rephrase it,” the lieutenant said. “Why did you accept the post aboard Enterprise?”
“Well, there are several reasons,” was the thoughtful reply.”
“The praise and glory of being among the first humans to explore here?” Reed teased.
“Nah. Not that. Okay, so it’s nice, but it’s not all that much glory, sticking in warp core parts up to your eyebrows while some alien species is tryin’ t’ blow you up.” Trip grinned. “No, it was more of what I could do here.”
“Meet interesting alien life forms?”
“If you’re warmin’ up that whole pregnancy business again…” Trip groaned.
Malcolm nuzzled one ear. “No. Are you?”
“I sure won’t!” Trip leaned into the loving contact, sighing with pleasure. “Y’see, I love my work. I love working on the warp engines. Ever since I was a lil’ boy I wanted nothin’ more than t’ get my hands on it, make it work better, make it faster. No one could stop me from that. I enrolled in all the courses I could find, I could recite all the handbooks, even built miniature models. Pestered my parents to take me to all the exhibits and museums an’ stuff. An’ I finally made it into the Academy.”
“They must have been proud.”
“Yeah. All the time I was there, I wanted nothin’ more than t’be the engineer on the first ship to leave our solar system. And that was what drove me on, Mal. No rides on the barges going from Earth to Mars or just Pluto. No freighters. I wanted to be among the first to test the real system, the pride an’ joy of Starfleet.”
Malcolm rested his head on his lover’s shoulder. “And you made it.”
“Yep. No braggin’, but I was among the best.”
“I know you were.”
“An’ it had nothin’ t’do with Jon bein’ the Cap’n,” Trip added. “Din’t even know it back then. An’ even then I hadn’t really realized that I had been chosen as chief engineer. Hell, I woulda taken some crewman’s place just t’be on Enterprise.”
Malcolm chuckled. “You were already a Lieutenant Commander back then, Trip. They wouldn’t have demoted you in rank.”
“Screw rank, Mal. I wanted it so badly, I would’ve given it back to them.”
“Quite single-minded.”
“I am when I want somethin’.” Trip tugged Malcolm’s arms more tightly around him.
“I see.”
“You do?”
“Yes, actually I do.” Malcolm kissed a place behind Trip’s ear. “Persistence. An admirable trait.”
“I usually get it, too.”
“Oh really?”
Trip turned so he was looking at his lover. “It’s always worth the trouble,” he whispered huskily.
Malcolm wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close. “Smooth talker.”
“That’s me.”
“Are all your come on lines that good?”
“That was my best.”
Reed met the first kiss with a gentle teasing tongue brushing over his lover’s. They nipped at each other, hands touching gently whatever they could reach.
“And it’s supposed to get a guy all hard and bothered and wanting?”
“And pliant in my hands,” Trip murmured seductively, brushing a thumb over his lover’s lower lip. “Don’t forget pliant.”
“Then you really have to work on your technique.”
Tucker shot him an indignant look. “I’ll have you know, my technique is perfect, Mr. Reed!”
“Oh really…”
“Well, you fell for it.”
Malcolm snorted. “I took pity on you.”
“Pity?!”
And Tucker pounced. Malcolm gave a yell of protest that quickly became laughter as nimble fingers began to tickle him.
“I give, I give!” he yelled, twitching and writhing underneath his relentless lover.
Breathing hard, Trip stopped, sitting on the other man, hands resting lightly on the quivering belly. Leaning down, he gazed into the sparkling gray eyes, smiling. Lips were slightly open, breathing still faster than normal, skin flushed. Then he locked their lips in a loving caress of each other. Tongues touched, entwined, tasted, loved and soon soft sounds could be heard from underneath the two sleeping bags.

* * *

The third day they reached the natural stone bridge across the river they had been aiming for, crossing the fast moving waters underneath them to hike back to the meeting point. With only four days out here, they couldn’t luxuriate in going all the way to the mountain and down the other side, which would have been a 10-day-trip.
“It must be raining in the mountains,” Malcolm remarked, looking at the water. “The river is faster than two days ago. A lot more water, too.”
Trip shrugged. “According to the data, we won’t have to worry about bad weather fronts till in a week. They predicted snow melting up in the mountains, as well as spring storms. We’re long gone by then.”
Reed nodded and looked at the map. “There’s a nice spot just over three hours from here. River-side, too.”
“Then let’s head for it.”

* * *

Malcolm didn’t know what woke him from one second to another. He had slept too lightly to actually hit an REM phase, something he usually only did when he was on high alert -- when the security officer in him had the paranoia and alarm mode cranked to the max. But why here? This was their vacation.
They had gone to bed, lying with each other, snuggling close and exchanging little gestures of affection, then had drifted off. Well, Trip had drifted off and Malcolm had had the strange tingly feeling of… what? It had taken a while for him to fall asleep and now he was awake again.
It was a strange feeling of premonition, as if something was about to happen. Something bad. Reed was wide awake, all senses highly aware, muscles coiled to spring into action. He sat in the dark tent, listening to the soft breathing of his lover, sometimes interrupted by a little snore, and the sounds of the night outside.
Or the lack thereof.
When they had fallen asleep, there had been animal noises, a faint rustling in the trees, the buzz of insects. There were no dangerous species around, the warden had reassured them. They might get stung by insects or scare off some smaller mammals, but nothing carnivorous that was large enough to be a danger to humans.
Now it was quiet, except for the distant sound of the river and the wind.
Distant?
Malcolm frowned and crawled toward the tent opening. He went outside into the chilly air, goose bumps rising on his flesh. The air was fresh, the sky cloudy and none of the moons was visible. The wind tousled his hair, wiping strands into his face.
The sound of the river was closer than he would have thought, and it was more of a roar anyway.
The alarm inside him rang shrilly and he stiffened as more than a simple premonition raced through him. Malcolm didn’t know why, but he knew they had to get out of here. He had to get Trip to safety.
Now!
Flinging the tent open, he hastily threw out the first backpack within his reach.
“Trip!” he shouted. “Get up! Now!”
 

Trip started awake, drowsy eyes trying to open. One minute he had been sleeping, the next there was this sudden noise and urgency all around him. On a subconscious level, it had already tried to rouse him.
“Mal… What…?” he mumbled.
“We have to leave!” Reed insisted, slipping into his hiking boots.
Tucker gazed at him, not understanding. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
“I… Trip, I can’t explain, but we have to leave. Now!”
Something grabbed Tucker’s attention, shooting straight through his sleep-muddled mind and into his instinctual brain. Something in Malcolm’s voice. It was a tone of command, but unlike the one he used as an officer on Enterprise. And it struck something completely different than the officer in Trip, too.
It was still instinct, but one so deep down, so primal, Trip didn’t question Malcolm’s command. He knew he could trust his partner, that whatever was going on, the man had his reasons. There was a danger, it was singing through him on that primal level, but it seemed to echo loudly around Malcolm.
He started to move.
 

Malcolm knew their time was running out.
Why? -- That he didn’t know.
What was happening? -- He didn’t know that either.
But the urgency grew and with it the strange knot inside him, a knot that was in the process of becoming so tight, he was afraid it would break him. He had never felt anything like this before. A more moderate alarm, yes. As a security officer, he was always on edge when the going got tough, when the situation became dangerous, but never like this.
And this time it centered around getting Trip to safety. He had to.
<<The river>>
<<Rising>>
<<Closing us in>>
Malcolm didn’t know where the flash of knowledge had come from, but the river was dangerous. The calm body of water Trip had caught more fish in just mere hours ago had suddenly turned into a torrent of rolling water and debris.
A gust of wind hit the two men, this one stronger than before, and it brought with it the smell of rain. Reed looked into the darkness, frowning, then raised his gaze to the sky. Dark clouds were churning overhead, barely visible in the night, but they were clearly growing.
Water lapped at their ankles and he was surprised to notice its existence. The river had long since gone past its natural boundaries and was flooding the shore lines in an ever-growing radius.
“Shit, it’s flooding!” Trip cursed. “How could it get so high so fast?”  Fear had crept into his voice.
A fear that lodged itself deep into Malcolm’s soul, setting something free that had sizzled there all along.
“I don’t know,” Reed whispered, voice shaky.
The fear grew, feeding off Malcolm’s own fear, the fear of drowning. He heard the growling noise. Coming closer. Ever closer. Water. Rushing toward them.
Another flash burned itself into his mind.
<<Broken floodgates. Too much rain, snow melting, no drainage possible, dam broken>>
“Malcolm…” Trip’s voice sounded oddly distorted.
Reed whirled around to him, wide eyes raking over his lover, who was a deathly pale ghost of himself to Malcolm’s eyes. Then he stared into the darkness. Panic and fear rose up.
“Bloody hell!”
A flood wave was churning toward them.
Gigantic. Unstoppable. Deadly.
Dizzy, his head pounding from a headache that hadn’t been there before, Malcolm reached for his lover, fingers curling around his wrist. The contact was calming, grounding, as if all the confusion had suddenly cleared. For a single moment, there was only them, no outside world, no outside noise.
“Malcolm?” Trip asked.
“Trust me,” his lover whispered.
“I do.”
The words were spoken solemnly, but without hesitation. And something seemed to reach out to Trip, touch him, reaffirm that he was there, all of him, and the primal part inside Malcolm purred briefly, reassuringly, before it turned to face what was threatening them.
And then the flood was upon them.
Malcolm felt something inside of him rise with his adrenaline level, something that was countering the flood wave, pushing against it… and failing. He felt a sharp stab in his head and he cried out in pain.
And bloody hell broke lose.

* * *

He was cold. So incredibly, utterly cold. Wet clothes clung to his body, stiff, unyielding, hugging his skin in a more than uncomfortable manner. Everything felt heavy. His body shivered and trembled, trying to warm itself, and he wrapped his arms around his soggy self, valiantly trying to keep the little warmth in. Strands of hair hung obnoxiously into his face and he sniffled around his icy, wet nose.
Trip clenched his teeth as the wind caught hold of him again, cooling his body down even more.
Have to get dry. Move. Get away from here.
His brain was talking to him, but it wasn’t getting the message through. At least not to his limbs. All he could do was curly up even tighter, blurry eyes on the fascinating horror that was a raging river. He didn’t know how he had made it out of that death trap, the foaming, roaring liquid that no longer resembled the peaceful river they had hiked along not so long ago. He remembered being swamped by a wave of water, pulled off his feet. He recalled a hand clamping around his wrist with incredible strength.
Gray eyes in a pale, familiar face.
Gray eyes filled with terror and pain.
Gray eyes.
Malcolm.
“Malcolm!”
The cry escaped between his chattering teeth and was lost in the wind and the roaring water.
“Malcolm…?”
Where was Malcolm? His lover had grabbed him and then…
Tucker frowned as he continued freezing. He had no idea what had happened next. There had been the inky blackness, the pressure all around him, disorientation…. Water…. Closing in…
And something flashing.
Lightning?
He had no idea. The next conscious sensation had been his current situation: several feet away from the river, curled up, wet and miserable, unable to see much because it was still the middle of the night.
Cold.
Oh so cold.
“Malcolm,” he whispered.
He was so tired. Bone-deep tired and exhausted.
Trip didn’t know how long he had stared at the waters, hypnotized by the rush, the foaming water, the constant noise. He just knew, from one second to the other, that he had to move. Cold and tired as he was, he had to move. Malcolm had to be here somewhere, he needed his help… was probably just as cold.
With a soft groan, he managed to uncurl, though it took ages. Eternity.
Hands grasped helplessly, twitching, numb. He wanted to roll around, his body wouldn’t obey him any longer.
Malcolm. Have to find him. Help him.
Tucker closed his eyes, teeth chattering.
So cold.
So absolutely cold.

* * *

“Both the Lieutenant and the Commander suffer from hypothermia, which means their bodies have cooled down to a degree that is rather uncomfortable as well as dangerous to a human. I’ve raised the body temperature slowly and they should be conscious within the next two hours.”
Dr. Phlox looked satisfied as he relayed his report to Captain Archer, who stood next to Trip’s bed, a worried frown on his features.
Déjà vu, Archer thought with an inner shudder. Both men in sickbay, hypothermic. Definitely déjà vu.
“You will be happy to know that there isn’t any lasting damage, Captain,” Phlox went on. “Both are a bit bruised, which isn’t a surprise considering what happened. I’ve treated them with antibiotics to keep a fever at bay. Pneumonia is always quick in cases of hypothermia. But I believe we can keep that from happening. Commander Tucker’s left wrist seems to be fractured, with some torn ligaments, and there are bruises around it. With some rest and a cooling aid, it will be fine, but it will take time.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Archer replied, nodding.
No one had expected it to happen. The Ceide had been as surprised by the sudden weather front as anyone, and the park wardens had been quick to mount a rescue when it had become apparent that the storm and subsequent flood had hit an area of the Preserved Park that had hikers and campers in it. Including Trip and Malcolm. They had had their communicators with them, but neither had answered any calls. Sudden hurricanes or bad weather was nothing knew to Ceide. The small moon was plagued by them frequently, but the indigenous people had developed an almost perfect meteorological forecast system.
Almost perfect.
This time, it hadn’t been right on target. It had predicted worse weather with gale force winds and flooding for the next week.  The Ceide had apologized profoundly for the near-death experience of every hiker in the area, offering free medical care and replacement of gear.
Archer wasn’t interested in either. He was just glad to have his men back,
“Let me know when they wake up,” he told Phlox.
The Denoblian nodded and both men left the area where the two biobeds stood. Archer walked back to the bridge, deep in thought. One of the key mysteries to the survival of Malcolm and Trip, for which he was grateful for, was how had they survived at all? According to the rescue unit, the two men had camped out almost next to the river. It had flooded the camp in minutes when not only the water from an early snow melt but also the broken dam had raised the levels, taking them completely by surprise.
Like every hiker in the Preserved Park, they had been given a map of the official camp sites and Malcolm had left behind a route they would take. So Archer knew exactly where they had been before the weather had caught them. First the rain in the mountains had let the waters rise, then a dam had broken under the pressure and flooding the valley. It had swept everything away in mere minutes, uprooting trees and killing hundreds of smaller animals.
But while they had known where Trip and Malcolm had been, no one could explain why they had been found high upon a riverbank, three miles down the course of the river. Close to the river, but far enough away not to be caught by the raging mass of water again. Both men had been wet, covered in mud, cold, but alive. There had been signs of movement in the dirt and both had been hugging the other, trying to keep warm.
How they had gotten there was the mystery. The riverbank was too high to climb and it was a very safe spot.
So what had happened?

* * *

Malcolm was semi-awake. He had been drifting in and out of consciousness for a while now, snatching up pieces of conversation, hearing familiar voices talk, and his brain rallied to make connections between the Here and Now, and Memories.
It was doing a pitiful job so far. Abyssmal, actually.
Okay, work on the voice. You know it.
Captain Archer.
Yes, that was his. He heard worry and relief in it, but he couldn’t understand the words.
Dr. Phlox.
Words like ‘hypothermia’ and ‘sleep’ caught his attention, then ‘Commander Tucker’ was mentioned. At the name of his partner, adrenaline seemed to burst into his system, making him more alert. More words filtered through.
Miraculous rescue. Survival against all odds. Lucky.
Huh, yes, probably. They were always lucky. Damn lucky.
They had survived.
More memories returned as he drifted in his state between sleep and awaking. He remembered the almost painful premonition that they were in danger, that they had to get out of here. He had woken Trip, made him dress… and then it had been almost too late. The river had swollen rapidly, the wind had howled around them, trees had been felled by the force of nature, and then…
A flash of pain. Something deep inside of him rising to the surface.
Like a survival instinct.
Like nothing else he had ever felt before.
He knew he had held on to Trip, a bone-crushign grip. And they had been swept away by the raging water…?
Something had tingled at the edge of his consciousness as anguish grew. Pressure had seemed to build inside of him. Blood had boiled in his veins, his ears had been filled with the noise of  it, and he had thought he was on fire, when it had all burst out in one last desperate cry that seemed to tear his very soul apart.
And then the world around him had exploded.
The next thing he knew he was back on Enterprise.
Alive. Warm. With Trip.
Malcolm finally managed to blink his eyes open and turned his head instinctively to where he knew his lover was lying on the second biobed.
The sight of the blond head, hair tousled but free of mud, the face relaxed in sleep, was immensely reassuring. Reed struggled to sit up and only now noticed that the lights had been dimmed. It had to be night time.
He was wearing a simple shirt and light sweat pants; Starfleet regulation issue pants and shirt. His clothes had probably not survived the experience.
On slightly unsteady legs, Malcolm wobbled over to Trip and curled shaky fingers around one warm wrist. It was wonderful to feel the steady pulse underneath his grasp, see the soft rise and fall of the chest, and he smiled dimly.
They had made it out of there alive. But how? Malcolm had no recollection of the events and the more he tried, the more his head started to ache.
“Lieutenant. What are you doing up?”
The voice startled him and Reed almost lost his precarious balance. Strong hands clamped around his biceps and steadied him. He blinked and a pair or alien, white-blue eyes gazed mildly at him.
“Doctor?” he managed, voice shaky.
“You should be in bed, sleeping,” Phlox  chastised him gently, steering the unresisting man back to the second biobed. “Mr. Tucker is perfectly fine. He needs sleep. Just like you.”
“Oh.”
Higher brain functions were out of the question at the moment. Completely. Coordination was difficult enough already; his brain had no room was extra functions right now. Phlox maneuvered him onto the bed and Malcolm voluntarily lay down, but he looked at his partner again.
“He is fine,” Phlox repeated, voice calming. “You both suffered from the extreme weather conditions, but nothing permanent. Mr. Tucker is clearly exhausted, he was hypothermic, and he has a few bumps and bruises. You mirror his condition, Mr. Reed. Rest is all I have to prescribe. Tomorrow you will be in your own bed, your own quarters, again.”
“Thank you,” Malcolm mumbled.
“My pleasure. Now… please stay in your bed, Lieutenant. Sickbay does not come with double beds and certainly does not encourage sharing bed space.” The blue eyes twinkled merrily and if he had been in better shape, Malcolm would have at least blushed a little bit.
As it was, he slipped onto the biobed and back into sleep.

* * *

Trip lay in his quarters, his own, wonderfully soft and warm bed, gazing into the twilight of the room. He was wide awake despite the late, or early, hour. Time was just a matter of definition.
He had been released from sickbay this morning and while he felt wonderfully warmed and no longer chilled to the bone, an experience that reminded him too much of almost freezing to death in a shuttlepod, he was still not fit enough to resume his duties. Then there was his still wrapped wrist. It hurt a little, but not enough to require painkillers. Memories as to what had happened to get his wrist into this condition were hazy.
Another forty-eight hours were what Phlox had prescribed. The same went for Malcolm. And hearty meals. Phlox had insisted on a sufficient nutritional intake.
So they had spent the time in the mess hall, having a nice lunch, then talking to the captain, getting the latest on Ceide and the flood. Archer had invited both to dinner and while it had been a pleasant affair, Trip had soon found himself nodding off. The captain had simply shooed them off to bed.
Now here he was. Not the least bit tired anymore. Malcolm was sound asleep next to him, his naked back to Trip, breaths regular and deep. They had just snuggled and kissed, but nothing heavier than that. Neither was really up to it.
Tucker crossed his arms behind his head and gazed at the gray ceiling. Unlike Malcolm, Trip remembered a lot from their fatal night next to the river. He remembered Malcolm waking him, the undercurrent of urgency in his lover’s voice jolting him to wakefulness. He recalled the shouted order to go -- and he vividly remembered his own reaction to it.
Not that of an officer.
Not that of a lover.
Something else.
Something inside of him had woken briefly, recognized Malcolm as… what? A partner? A … mate? A kindred soul? Whatever it was, it had followed, trusted, instinctively and readily, more and deeper than Trip had ever thought a single human being was able to trust. For a moment he had felt something of a bond between them, and it wasn’t their relationship. It went so much deeper, and if it weren’t so stupid and sounded so absolutely mushy, he would call it a connection of souls.
Unbidden, the words of the Orca came back: supplement. They had called it a supplement, an addition, something between them.
Something.
Between them.
But what?
His mind was running in circles, trying to grasp a hold of the ‘thing’ that had happened, but it refused to recall the exact details.
Trip shivered and rolled onto his side, pushing himself up on one elbow. He gazed at the dark head, watched his lover sleep. Unconsciously, he leaned forward to touch him, then he caught himself. No need to wake him. Malcolm needed rest. Despite his usual declarations, he wasn’t fine at all. He was still exhausted just like Trip.
And he had had a complete black-out concerning the tidal wave that had almost killed them.
Trip remembered the flood coming their way, the boiling, foaming mass of water, rocks and debris. He could still see it rush at their defenseless camp, at them, and the sudden terror had burned itself into his mind.
One moment there had been the wall of water.
Then everything had blurred.
The next thing he knew he was lying on the muddy riverbank, cold, wet, shivering, wondering where his lover was.
He had told no one, not even the captain. How could he explain it?
He had tried to think back to each and every second. Feel what he had felt. Hear what had been around him. All Trip could really remember was Malcolm beside him, the crushing grip on his wrist, the sudden rush he felt, the urgency, panic and need, the horror as the wave crashed…. down… on… them…
No. No, no way. He hadn’t been under water.
But instinctively he knew he had been. For a fraction of a second the water had caved in over him, buried them both, and then… the blur.
We should be dead, he mused.
Why aren’t we?